


Coming Home

by WroughtBetwixt



Category: Who Framed Roger Rabbit (1988)
Genre: Adultery, Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant, Canon Related, Explanations, Explosions, Explosives, F/M, Fix-It, Gen, Implied Sexual Content, One-Sided Relationship, POV First Person, Past Relationship(s), Present Tense, Surprises, Villains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-03
Updated: 2012-10-03
Packaged: 2017-11-15 13:06:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/527643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WroughtBetwixt/pseuds/WroughtBetwixt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When an accident takes away her first love, Jessica Krupnik... "Jessica Rabbit" to all those who think she is a demure, devoted wife... learns to redefine herself, and is determined to regain what she has lost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming Home

**Author's Note:**

> I in no way own these characters. :) Please don't sue me. The title was taken from J Cole's song "I'm Coming Home". Please comment or kudos! Thank you. :D

I sip the cup of coffee, trying to use the cup to block him from my sight. He's running a hand through his blond hair, the other hand tight around his own glass. Whiskey? Bourbon? It's hard to tell. Whatever it is, I know it means trouble. 

"I wish you would just consider what I am telling you," he tells me in that pleading voice. That voice I've heard so many days now, late in the night or in the dawn when I rise from his bed to go back to my husband. "I'm getting better gigs. I'm working with Walt's bunch right now; they let me play the magic mirror a couple years ago, and we hit it off. I have an audition in a few days to see if I can get a part in Fantasia."

I let my lips linger on the cup, lowering it enough to gaze into those green eyes of his. Vivid, hopeful eyes. He's a little younger than me, a handsome youth fresh out of school and part of the Toon Actor's Guild; he was getting quite a reputation, but he has yet to land the big role. Word had it that Fantasia is going to be a hit, and I feel my curiosity stirring at that excited tone in his voice.

"What role?" I ask, trying to sound casual.

He is suddenly shy, taking a swig of his drink; liquid courage, I guess. "Chernabog," he answers in a quiet way. 

"Ah." I drink the last of the coffee and sigh. The bar is empty now, and I feel able to talk more freely than before. "I'm happy for you. I really am. I like what we have, Baron, but I can't leave Roger."

"You're not happy with him."

"No, I'm not, but that isn’t the problem.”

“Please, Jessica.” He reaches across the table, taking my hand in his own. “I know I don’t make as much money as he does... not yet. I can’t give you the same lifestyle he can. But I love you. I could be there for you, every day. I’ll take care of you.”

I can’t tell him the truth. I can’t tell him that it’s not the money, that it’s not the expensive clothes or cars. Those are all nice, but with Roger’s money and fame comes security. What would this man think, if I tell him that I used to work as a spy in Russia? What would he do, if I tell him all the things I have done? Even if he accepts me, and I don’t doubt that he would, it would put him at risk. That isn’t something I am willing to do to him. I squeeze his hands, and my heart breaks as I weave my lie. “Roger talked with Acme. Acme is giving me my own gig.”

Baron’s eyes brighten for a moment, and then sorrow falls over him as he realizes what this means; even so, he keeps smiling. “Oh... Oh, Jessica, that’s wonderful. Congratulations. You finally get to sing, just like you always wanted.”

And then I land the crushing blow. “We can’t do this anymore, Baron. If Roger or Acme find out... I have to think about my career.”

There’s a wetness in his eyes, and I look away. “Of course. I...” His voice quivers, but he presses on. “I wish you all the best.”

“And I wish you the same,” I whisper. My throat tightens, and I know I have to leave before I throw everything away and tell him to forget what I have said... before I follow my heart. “I have to go. We both have things to do.”

I slam a bill on the bar, more than enough to pay for my tab, and then I begin to flee. I have to get out of here before the tears come. I walk out the door, but before I can make it, Baron is blocking my exit. He is taller than me, but thin; I could easily remove him from my path, but I won’t do that. Not to him. 

“Just one more,” he asks of me, not meeting my eyes. “Please.”

And in the darkness of the bar, I lean up and kiss him. Tears roll down my cheek as I feel his warmth; his mix with mine. I stroke his face, trying to offer some wordless comfort, but I know it’s worthless now. It’s difficult to believe that I will never again feel his skin against mine, that I will never again hear that special laugh he reserved for our private moments together, that we never again will sneak into his trailer during filming breaks, stealing illicit touches and muffled gasps from each other. 

I push him away. For a moment, I stand here and breathe; I move past him to the door, and I force a sob back down. “Goodbye, Baron.”

“See you around, Jessica.”

“No.” I pause and look at him. “No, you won’t.”

And then I am gone. I walk home, and I ignore the whistles and catcalls from men that hang out of cars. I resist the urge to take the gun from my purse and end every last one of them. When I reach the lavish apartment I share with Roger, I dump my things on the bed and look at myself in the mirror. My reflection is smudged and puffy, and I take a shower to try and ease the unnatural cold from my skin. I feel empty as I get dressed in a white, sheer number that Roger got me for our wedding; night was falling, and I know he’ll be home soon. I reapply my makeup and get dinner ready as I wait.

Soon he is home, and he fawns over me like a dog over a bone. I bite back my repulsion, and I smile as I play the dutiful wife. This is the game I play for the next year, and I come to accept my new life. At first it’s difficult for me to avoid all the places I used to haunt, but it gets easier with time; I only see Baron twice. The first time, I'm with Roger at an awards ceremony; Baron has won Best Actor for his role in Fantasia, which turns out to be the hit everyone anticipated. Roger doesn’t question why I'm crying, just as he doesn’t question why I cry backstage the first night I perform at the Ink and Paint Club. He chalks it up to nerves. In truth, I have seen Baron watching me from the far corner of the club; there is a rose left on the chair of my dressing room. 

I miss him each night, but it grows easier with time to resist visiting him. As time passes, I throw myself into my blooming career. The money and fame are welcome in my life; with the makeup, the tight-lacing, and expensive procedures to change my body and my identity, I know I'm finally safe. It’s the end of this first year that I decide to see Baron, to congratulate him on his success and to apologize. It takes me a week to work up the courage, but one day I wake up and dress nicely; I am thankful that Roger is at work. I take a taxi to the studio where I know Baron works, but things are quiet. The people who work here look glum, and no one seems to notice me. I finally stop a woman and ask her where I can find Baron, and she looks at me like I’m a ghost.

“Don’t you know?” she asks, frowning at me. “He was in an accident a week ago. A grenade went off in his face. He’s been in a coma since then.”

My heart thunders in my chest as I catch another taxi to the hospital. I’m wringing my hands as the nurse takes me back to Baron’s room; he’s wrapped in gauze, and I sink into a chair as I cry. The doctors say it is bizarre, that the accident shouldn’t have done this; one nurse whispers out in the hall that Baron hasn’t been the same as he was last year, that he was distracted and that. I rest my head in my hands, staying by his side until night comes and a nurse makes me leave. I come back the next day and the next, and soon the nurses stop making me leave at all. Roger gets angry one night I come home late, and he demands to know where I have been. I walk past him, too tired to care.

For a week, I sit by Baron’s side and hold his hand. A doctor removes his bandages on one of these days, and I choke back a cry as I see the damage that has been done. He is scarred, burned. His playful golden hair is singed down to his scalp, and I see one of the nurses recoil. I sneer at her and turn my gaze back to him. All that matters now is that he wakes up. I eat my lunches here, I sleep here. And after the week is over, I come back from lunch in time to see my beloved Baron stir. I drop my bag and rush to his side, calling for a nurse.

He looks at me, and I step back; his green eyes, once so beautiful, have turned the color of blood. His voice, once like sweet wine to my ears, rasps as he speaks. “Who are you?”

I turn and I run, just as I ran away a year ago. Roger comes home and we fight; in the end, there is no winner. He begs me to let him in, and I shut him down; I tell him to let me be, and he refuses to listen. But I stay with him, because he is all I have left. Days later, I hear that Baron is behaving strangely; days after that, he has gone missing. In the weeks after he vanishes, a strange toon robs the bank; a young detective named Teddy is murdered there. When I look outside, I slowly start to see a Toontown I don’t recognize, and when I look in the mirror, I see a Jessica I don’t recognize, either. Bitterness hardens my features, anger purses my lips, and disdain sharpens my voice. I have stopped caring by the time Judge Doom is elected a month later; some say he has bought the election, but it matters little to me. What care have I for this miserable city? 

It’s raining the night I consider leaving for Russia. The seething, putrid hatred in my heart has taken its toll. I itch to hold a gun in my hand, to be free of these slobbering mutts in the Ink and Paint Club... to be free of Acme and his greasy, grabbing hands. I decide I will work one more night in the dive, and I walk through the streets to the club. I step over trash, and watch the shadows play in the dark alleys. I’m not afraid. I am almost to the back door of the club when I slip on the wet pavement; a hand reaches out of the darkness and steadies me.

“Are you alright?”

I look up at the tenor voice; my throat closes as my gaze falls on Judge Doom. He has proven to be a ruthless, harsh man over the months, executing offending toons in horrific ways. I have no fear of him, but his wide-brimmed hat shadows his face and I am wary. Why is he here? The street is otherwise empty. But I am staring, and I know it is rude. “I’m fine,” I say as I straighten. “Thank you.”

The Judge releases my arm and pulls away. “You be careful, now. These streets aren’t a kind place for a woman such as yourself.”

A smile crosses my lips, and a hint of venom enters my voice. “I’ll keep that in mind, sir.”

“Of course.” He tips his hat. “Goodnight, Missus Rabbit.”

Words freeze in my throat as the light from the streetlamp catches his face. Emerald eyes watch me over old-fashioned glasses, strange yet familiar. I nod, unable to speak; I turn and walk into the club, and I slam the door behind me. I rush to my dressing room and lean against the wall. It can’t be possible. My eyes fall on my wardrobe; I walk to it and open a drawer, my fingers brushing against the dried rose inside. I hear the music start, and I know my act is soon. Acme is waiting out there; I can already smell the stench of his cologne. All of those perverted wretches are waiting, with their tongues hanging out.

But who else? Could Baron still be...?

I slip on my red, sequined-covered dress and the matching heels, and I walk to the stage. My head is held high, and there is a sway in my hips as I find a renewed sense of purpose to my life. I moan out the lyrics, crooning to the darkness as men imagine I am singing for them. Tonight I sing for my lost lover. Nothing else matters; somewhere out there, he is waiting, even if he doesn’t remember. I will find him, and I will guide him back to me. Roger, Acme and these other scumbags be damned. If I have one life to live, I will do it on my terms.

Russia will have to wait.


End file.
